A Random Act of Kindness
by sdbubbles
Summary: It's amazing how one person's thoughtfulness can make someone else's life so much brighter. And then, of course, it's amazing how a world can be torn apart so easily.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is for my lovely friend Brooke, to try and cheer her up. And we decided someone needed to be nice in Holby and do this for the poor sod - he's so sad just now.**

**Sarah x**

* * *

"Do you know where Michael is, Chrissie?" Serena asked the blonde nurse, positively beaming in her excitement to see his reaction. This had gone on long enough. It was making him thoroughly depressed and she didn't like it, so she was doing something.

"He went down for coffee," she replied as she looked through a patient's file. She looked tired; it was Friday afternoon and she, along with Serena, Michael and almost every other person in the hospital, was looking forward to seeing her pillow tonight.

"Thanks," she smiled. She stalked to the lift and waited impatiently for the main entrance and canteen to materialise before her. The doors opened and she scanned the room for her friend. "Michael!" she shouted over to him when she spotted his blue scrubs. "Michael!" she shouted again as she practically ran up to him. "Michael," she said once more when she arrived in the queue opposite him. "I've got something for you."

"What, forms for me to sign?" he asked, distracted by his phone.

"No," she rolled her eyes. "Pack a bag," she smiled. She handed him the gift. He diverted his attention from his phone to what she was handing him. His eyes scanned the small piece of paper and a smile broke across his face.

"Are you serious?!" he asked her.

"Of course I'm serious!" she replied. "I have to go to a conference, and I was given the option to take a colleague. I had it extended and cited "professional visits" as the cause. Not entirely a lie, but they don't have to know I only have to have a ten-minute meeting with an old colleague," she winked deviously. "I thought, while we were in the area, you'd be able to see your kids."

She gasped when the air was squeezed out of her body. He'd pulled her into the tightest cuddle she'd ever experienced in her life. He was going the whole mile – he lifted her off her feet in his enthusiasm. It took her by surprise; she'd never seen him so incredibly happy before. "OK," she gasped. "OK. You can put me down now," she reminded him, patting his back.

"You clear this with Hanssen?" he said when he finally returned her feet to the floor.

"Yep," she grinned. "Just got him to agree half an hour ago. Ten days in Florida. We leave on Tuesday."

"Thank you, Serena," he said, and there was no doubting the sincerity. All these months he'd only seen his children over video conference; it wasn't fair. They were his kids too. Every time he'd been meant to see them, Annalese had changed the plans. She was sick to death of seeing him miserable with the ache of missing his four children. It must have been horrible for the poor man.

"No problem," she replied. "I thought it was about time you caught a break."

"You have no idea what this means," he told her. He put his hands on her face and kissed her forehead. She could tell this really did mean a great deal to him. She'd seen first hand how miserable the present situation made him. He pulled her into his arms and held her tight for a moment. "Thank you," he said into her ear, having calmed down by now.

"You're welcome," she grinned. "I've got a meeting with Hanssen, Michael. I have to go."

He released her and she rushed off but she heard him all after her, "Thanks again, Rena." At the mention of her nickname, she spun on her heel, shooting him a glare.

"Don't make me regret a random act of kindness, Michael," she warned him, her glare hard but her smile soft. She felt good about helping him; he was essentially a good man, even if he was really rather stupid sometimes. But stupidity wasn't the same as maliciousness. He rarely meant any harm. He just didn't think before he did anything. But he was a good man. Of that, Serena was adamant.

* * *

Michael tapped his foot impatiently as they stood in the queue to board the plane. "Come on!" he groaned. This was taking ages. He'd almost forgotten how much he loathed airports.

"Michael," he heard Serena sigh. "It takes as long as it takes."

"I know," he sighed. He tried not to think about the long flight but what was waiting on the other side of the ocean. "We're going to have an amazing time," he announced, putting an arm around Serena's shoulders. "We'll go shopping on International Drive. Ride all the coasters we can. Go to the best diners."

"Michael, I'm going to be working. So are you," she reminded him. The thought of the three-day conference wasn't very appealing but everything else he knew and loved was.

"Yeah. For three days out of ten. That leaves us a week to do whatever we want," he said, unable to control his happiness. He still couldn't believe Serena Campbell, of all people, had done this for him. She could have take any of the consultants, or even have gone herself, but she'd chosen to take him with her. He was extremely grateful. More than she seemed to realise. "We're going to Universal Studios," he decided.

"Are we really?" she replied, sounding quite bored of his excitement. They were staying in a hotel, mostly because Michael didn't like the idea of staying in the same house as Brad the Banker. And he didn't want Serena and Annalese ganging up on him all the time. The plan was a twin room. He didn't like staying in hotels alone anyway – he got bored too easily, and he often felt lonely. And he hated feeling alone. There was nothing worse.

"Yeah. And the food is amazing at some of the steakhouses," he said.

"Yes, I know, Michael," she retorted. "I _did_ live in Florida."

Michael had great fun winding Serena up until they got into their seats. After such a long wait, he was glad to sit down. Serena sat down next to him and pulled out a book, so he put his headphones on and let the music play and his happiness return. He was the first to admit that the lack of contact with the kids he adored so much had made him slip into a depressive cycle that even his colleagues noticed.

It wasn't long, of course, before Serena fell asleep next to him. He didn't notice until her head fell onto his shoulder. He took the book from her hands and put the bookmark where her thumb was holding it open. He had to admit she wasn't half as terrifying when she was sleeping; she looked quite free and innocent.

"We're gonna have _so_ much fun," he told her. Well, he was telling himself this as well. There were a few things that bothered him. Brad, for a start, and the way he was with Jasmine. Annalese – she'd not been very welcoming on the phone but he'd asserted he was coming over whether she liked it or not. And Serena. He was still, after months and months, unsure of her. Sometimes she could be so cold and heartless. Then, of course, she turned the tables and did this for him.

He hadn't meant to lift her in the air when she gave him the ticket; he was taken by surprise, and her kindness had been unexpected. His excitement had taken over. But she did seem glad to see him really smile again.

But then he knew he irritated the hell out of her. He couldn't help it. And she tended to annoy him, too, with her impeccably smart mouth and tendency to get her back up at everything.

He only hoped they didn't kill each other.

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave a review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This is going to twist and turn a little bit, I think, just to keep things interesting. It isn't just going to centre around Michael and the kids - Serena's going to have a plot too.**

**Thanks for the reviews :)**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Serena threw her suitcase onto her bed and sighed. How she hated trans-Atlantic journeys. It messed with her body clock, being on a plane for nine hours and then getting off to find it was only three hours later in reality. It was three in the afternoon and all she wanted to do was sleep. "This conference doesn't start until Thursday, so you can go and see the kids tomorrow," she reminded him, and smiled to herself when a beam spread across his face. She couldn't believe how much brighter he was here.

"First thing's first. Someone is sorting out my daughter's dress sense," Michael announced across the hotel room. Serena looked up at him and felt dread fill her body. Oh, God. Was he actually suggesting what she thought he was?!

"Oh, no, Michael," she groaned

He grinned up at her and replied, "Oh, yes, Serena."

"I'm not her mum," she reminded him, unpacking her clothes into the wardrobe. "I can't make her listen to me."

He pulled out his phone and handed it to her. On the screen was what Serena assumed was Jasmine Spence's Twitter page. Her profile picture was one of her in a racer back, low cut dress. "Ah," she said, finally seeing his point. "I thought you said she was only twelve?"

"Tell me," he sighed, sitting on his bed. "Am I being over-protective? Old-fashioned? Is there a reason Jasmine and Annalese completely ignore my opinion? Is my opinion wrong?"

"No," she assured him. "Your opinion is most definitely valid. If my daughter had dressed like that when she was twelve, I think I might have strung her up," she joked, handing him back his phone.

"Serena, someone has to make her see she can't be like that. She's just a kid, for crying out loud! I don't mind her wearing make-up – within reason – and I don't mind her growing up. But I will not have some jumped up pain the ass tell _my_ twelve-year-old daughter she can wear a dress that reveals more than it covers!" he ranted.

Serena grimaced as she sat on her own bed opposite him, her blue shirt still in her hands. "She won't listen," she warned him. "Twelve-year-old girls think they know everything."

"Just try. That's all I'm asking," he pleaded with her. "I can give you some money and you can go shopping with her and try and find something reasonable to wear for her."

"What makes you think I'm capable? If Annalese can't-"

"Annalese hasn't even tried. She lets Jasmine do what she wants when it comes to her appearance."

"Michael, do you see what kind of a position you're putting me in?" she moaned, running her fingers through her hair. "She's not my child. If Annalese finds out, and Jasmine's sure to tell her..."

"I'll take the rap," he promised. "I need someone, a woman, to teach her she can be beautiful without showing off her anatomy to anyone who's interested. And if anyone can do that, it's you."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, you don't wear ridiculously low-cut tops, and you don't wear a dress and heels," he explained. "You wear plain, comfortable clothes and pull it off and then some. I need you to teach Jasmine how to do that. Annalese always had a habit of wear tight and low-cut clothes. I'd much rather Jasmine was like you, to be quite honest," he confessed.

Taking the compliment rather awkwardly, looking at the puppy-dog look on her friend's face, she gave in, throwing her hands in the air. "Fine!" she exclaimed. "I will take your daughter shopping, but I reserve the right to overrule her in anything I think is her pushing her luck. Agreed?"

"Definitely," he smiled. "That's exactly what I want you to do. And if she gives you _any_ backchat, and I can pretty much guarantee she will," he warned, "you can go all scary and give her the death glare."

She gasped in false indignation and threw her shirt at his face. He pulled it off his head and threw it back with a grin. "Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome."

* * *

Michael tossed and turned in his bed, a faint light from the other bed waking him up. Her turned over onto his side to see Serena reading her laptop screen. She looked shocked. She put her hand over her mouth and he could tell she was fighting back tears. What was she reading that upset her so deeply?

He didn't speak; he thought it was probably best to let her get it out of her system. She quietly opened the drawer in her bedside cabinet and pulled out a notepad and pen, scribbling something down before putting it back in the drawer. He watched as she re-read the screen. It was as if she was hoping the words would change if she read it again. She closed her laptop in silence and buried herself in her duvet.

He heard her quietly cry into her pillow, and it took everything in him not to go over there and comfort her. It must have been one hell of a shock to do _this_ to Serena Campbell. She was, along with Jac Naylor, one of the toughest women he knew.

He remained silent as she got out of bed and sat by the window, looking over the top of the city. She was still crying; he could hear her ragged breathing through the silence. He figured she was assuming he was asleep and thoroughly jet-lagged. She was sitting on a high wooden bar stool, leaning her elbows on the window ledge.

It was unbearable. He couldn't do it. He rose from his bed silently – saying nothing – and pulled her into an embrace. Her head was buried into his chest as she cried. "Shh," he hushed her softly. "What's happened?" he asked her, keeping his voice gentle as he tried to calm her.

He felt her just shake her head into his chest; she was in no fit state to explain tonight. He stroked her hair lightly, rubbing her back. She couldn't seem to stop crying. He'd never seen her out of control like this before. Not like this. He'd seen her upset. He'd seen her emotionally and ethically torn. He'd seen her angry. He'd just never seen her sob her heart out in the dead of night.

He felt her arms wrap around his waist. "Come on," he whispered to her. "Don't cry."

It took a while – a good twenty minutes – but she eventually exhausted herself. He felt her sobs quieten down, and helped her to her feet. He guided her across the dark room back to her bed, and pulled the covers over her, almost as if she was a child. He knelt down so he was face to face with her, and he could just make out her face through the darkness.

He pushed her hair away from her face and asked her, "What's wrong, Serena?"

"It doesn't matter," she croaked after what felt like a minute of silence to Michael. He placed a hand on her cheek, realising she wasn't going to tell him anything she didn't want him to know.

"Are you sure?" he double-checked, on the off-chance she was broken enough to let him in. He felt her head nod under his hand. He sighed lightly, and kissed her forehead, hoping to try and comfort her. "Try and get some sleep," he advised her. She nodded again and he abandoned any attempt to get some kind of sensible answer from her. The only three words she'd come out with were a lie, so he wasn't going to get anywhere with her. The shutters were up already.

He climbed back into his bed and turned to face her, squinting to see if he could work out if she'd pulled her covers over her face. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard yet another sob escape her.

* * *

**Hope this is alright!  
Please feel free to leave a review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This chapter is considerably longer - I think I may have overdone it when I wrote most of this on the bus. **

**Thanks again for the lovely reviews - you guys really do make my day sometimes.**

**Sarah x**

* * *

When Serena woke the next morning, she found her throat was sore and her eyes felt tired. Then she remembered why. She remembered crying into Michael's chest, incapable of controlling her grief. She'd made a nuisance of herself, but for once, Serena didn't care. She groggily got up, reminding herself to paint a smile on her face so Michael wouldn't worry too much. This was as much his trip as it was hers, and she'd gone out of her way to make this special for him. She wasn't going to ruin it now with selfish tears.

She hunted for her favourite, most comfortable top and cardigan and her loosest pair of jeans – she just wanted to be comfortable today. She went into the bathroom, glancing at the clock. Seven. Michael was still snoring, surprise, surprise. She just smile softly in his direction, glad _someone_ slept last night. Serena had cried for a good two hours after he put her back to bed, unable to curb the flow of shocked tears.

She looked at herself in the mirror before she switched the shower on. Her face was deathly white and her eyes were red. Her head was thumping with a stress-induced headache; she briefly wondered when Michael woke up last night. Pretty insignificant now, she knew, but she was so horror-stricken that perhaps she hadn't noticed he was awake before.

Half an hour later, she was awake and reasonably at peace. That was what she was going to put on display to Michael, anyway. She went down and got breakfast, finding herself starving after not eating properly when she got off the plane. That, and she had an unfortunate habit of comfort eating. And drinking.

By the time she returned to their room, it was after eight. She knelt down next to Michael's bed and shook his arm gently. "Rise and shine," she grinned at him. He woke up slowly, which was quite amusing to watch. Then remembrance spread like a disease across his face and his hand wrapped around hers in what she guessed was meant to some gesture of comfort.

"Are you OK?" he asked her. She swallowed and breathed, remembering her next lie was him, not for her.

"I'm fine," she smiled. "Let's not go into it, eh? Today's your day."

She could see the doubt, but she wasn't going to tell him and ruin his holiday. The conference was just an excuse to get over here. What she'd intended was for Michael to have a good time. She was strong enough not to tell him. She was strong enough to keep it in, for his sake.

He got up and gave her one last sceptical glance, but seemed to decide the only option left, bullying it out of her, was going to be completely pointless. By half-past nine, they were in the car on the way to Annalese's house. "Serena, are you sure you're gonna be alright?" he asked when they got to a red light. "I've never seen you so upset before."

"I'm going to be just fine," she reassured him. In truth, the prospect of what she had to do, for herself and for everyone else, filled her with dread. But she wasn't going to tell him that.

Before Serena knew it, she was being introduced to Charlie, Milly, Meena and Jasmine. Jasmine immediately gave her a distrusting look and asked her dad, "Is this your new girlfriend?"

Serena and Michael looked at each other for a moment and simultaneously burst out laughing. What a thought. Serena honestly believed she would have had to kill him and hide the evidence far, far away. "No," Michael finally said. "Serena's a friend from Holby, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Serena smiled. "Come on then," she beckoned the kids out to the car. The plan, she'd discovered this morning, was for the youngest three to go with Michael to some kids' theme park they loved, and Serena's task was to take Jasmine out.

They got to the closest shopping centre and Michael chucked them out. When Jasmine was ordered to go with Serena, she argued, "You want me to go shopping with _her_?"

"Yes, I do," he replied calmly. "And _she_ has a name. Use it. Go with her," he ordered his daughter again, and Serena watched them try and out-stare each other. "_Go with Serena,_" he repeated in a deadly tone even Serena would have thought twice about arguing with.

Eventually, Jasmine got out and followed Serena into the shopping centre with a great deal of reluctance. "Your dad gave me money to get you some clothes," Serena said, holding the door open for the girl.

"He wants me to dress like a child," Jasmine huffed.

"You _are_ a child," Serena reminded her.

"I'm not!"

"You are," she retorted calmly, keeping her cool. This was reminiscent of the arguments she'd had with Eleanor about clothes and make up – why did they always want to be an adult? "Look, I'm not going to make you dress like a toddler, OK? What's the first thing you need? Your dad mentioned a school dance."

"I need a dress," Jasmine replied. Michael had said before he didn't like the dresses Brad was buying her. He didn't mind the heels and the hair and the make up. He just hated the dresses themselves. And he had a point; such a low-cut revealing dress was completely inappropriate for a twelve-year-old.

They went into a shop and Jasmine, as Serena had predicted to herself, picked up a backless dress with a plunging neckline. "Do you want your dad to behead me?" Serena demanded. "Why are you so determined to wear a dress like that, Jasmine?" Serena sighed, sitting on one of the seats beside the shoes.

"It's the only time anyone ever notices me," Jasmine admitted. "When I wear things that stand out, people notice I'm actually here."

Serena had feared as much; the girl was trying to remind people she was still there, and she was going about it in completely the wrong way. "You don't have to wear things like that to be noticed."

"Can you think of a better idea?" she challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Serena said. "Be yourself. That should be all you need. You're only twelve. You should be having fun and learning, not wearing frankly ridiculous clothes so people will notice you."

She stood up and went to the nearest rail, searching for a pretty but modest dress. One Jasmine could wear and be comfortable in her own skin. She came across a purple shift dress that was cut just above the knee, and a red prom dress that had layers of lace. "Do you prefer heels or flats?" Serena asked.

"Heels," Jasmine immediately answered.

"What size?"

"Six," she answered. Serena had to remind herself the sizing was different here. That made her feet, what? A four in Britain? That was about right. She handed Jasmine the red dress and a pair of black peep toe heels. The girl eyed them doubtfully, obviously not keen on the fact it wasn't was she would have described as _grown up_. "I'm not wearing _that_. It's too plain," she protested.

Serena raised an eyebrow at her, glaring at her as Michael had given her permission to. Jasmine's resolved withered under the icy stare and she sulkily took the dress and shoes and went into a changing room. When she emerged once more, Serena couldn't help but feel rather proud of herself. The dress was knee-length and covered Jasmine's chest. She took the girl to the mirror and let her see. She was still doubtful about it; Serena could see that much.

She stood behind Jasmine and twisted her hair, pulling it up so she could see what she'd look like once her hair was done and sprawled behind her. "Now you have to admit," Serena smile. "That looks grown up."

Jasmine's face broke into a grin, and Serena knew she was getting somewhere with the girl. "You're a beautiful girl, Jasmine. You don't need to wear things like what you posted on Twitter," Serena explained. "Modesty is a beautiful thing. Do you want to try the purple one?"

She waited for Jasmine to take the red one off, finding a pair of glittery silver heels as she did so, and then passed the next lot over the curtain. A couple of minutes later, Jasmine stepped out, and Serena thought this one was nicer than the first. It covered her chest and shoulders but was still sleeveless.

They stood in front of the mirror again, and Serena pulled Jasmine's hair back into a loose, messy bun in her hands. "See? _Very_ grown up," Serena complimented her.

"Thanks."

"So," Serena grinned. "How about we get both and tell your dad they were on sale?" she winked to Jasmine.

"You'd do that?" Jasmine replied, with a slightly disbelieving smile.

"I'm well practised in laying down the law to your father," she assured her. "We'll just say they were on sale and we'll _lose_ the receipt," she explained through the curtain as Jasmine got changed back into her normal clothes.

By the time they were finished at three that afternoon, Jasmine was dressed in skinny jeans, knee-high boots and a loose shirt, and they'd spent quite a considerable amount of money. They'd completely overhauled Jasmine's wardrobe with clothes and shoes that suited a twelve-year-old girl.

* * *

They returned to the hotel late that night, after taking the children out to dinner. Serena flopped face down onto the bed and asked Michael, her voice muffled by the pillow. "Do you know how exhausting your daughter is?"

"Oh, yeah," Michael grinned. "Why do you think I sent you?"

He was still rather worried about Serena. She was putting a smile on her face, but he could see the dark sorrow behind the sparkle in her eyes. The way she was pretending last night never happened, and succeeding, was unnerving for Michael. She got up and went through to the bathroom, presumably to remove her make up and put on her pyjamas.

He heard the door lock and, in a moment of masochistic insanity, he decided the time had come to invade Serena's privacy. He opened her bedside drawer and picked up the notepad.

_ 1531 W. Villa Marie Dr.  
__Thursday – 3pm_

What? Was she meeting someone? Going to visit them? He knew where that was, and she'd have to desert the conference to make it over there by three in the afternoon.

He heard her move in the bathroom and hastily replaced the notepad, not wanting to be caught prying. He was tempted to ask her, but he didn't want her to know he'd been nosing around in her business. Not to mention there was next to no hope of her actually coming clean. He'd learned long ago that if Serena Campbell didn't want to discuss something, it never got discussed.

He got changed himself, and heard Serena unlock the door just as he finished. He went past her to brush his teeth before climbing into bed. He _really_ wanted to know why he'd had to hear Serena cry herself to sleep last night, but he wasn't idiotic enough to ask. He knew very well that the woman's temper only stretched so far.

"'Night, Rena," he said to her as she got into her bed.

She sighed and asked, "You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

"Nope," he grinned, switching his lamp off so the room was plunged into darkness.

"'Night, Michael," she replied. She seemed happier today, but Michael never knew whether it was an act or not. She wasn't exactly transparent, was she? And she wasn't likely to tell him anything he wanted to know. He would just be told that she was fine, even if she blatantly was far from it. He just didn't know what to do about her. He hated seeing her the way she was last night; he'd never seen her so fragile before.

He nearly started when he heard a broken sob from her side of the room. Oh no. Not again. Something had to have happened to do this to her. She was hiding it during the day and falling apart in the darkness of the night. He groaned and turned the lamp back on, getting out of his bed. He knelt down and pulled the duvet away from her face.

"Come on, Serena," he whispered. "Don't cry. I don't like to see you cry," he confessed. Her eyes met his and he knew there was definitely something terribly wrong with her. He put a hand on the back of her head, and buried his face into her unruly short hair. "Shh," he whispered, just as he'd done last night.

As he held her head into his chest, he decided he needed to do something about it. And if she wasn't going to tell him, he was going to have to find out for himself. Even if it was only so he knew how to comfort her.

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and say what you thought!  
Sarah x**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Might need tissues for the end of this one, people. Just a warning.**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Michael woke suddenly the next morning, though he wasn't entirely sure why. He turned over to see Serena, but she wasn't there. Panicking, because of the state she'd been in, he jumped out of bed and knocked on the bathroom door. "Serena," he called. "You OK?"

"Yeah," he heard her reply, relief sweeping over him. He didn't know what she was capable of when she was hurt. Drinking? Recklessness? Worse? He was clueless. He waited for her to come out before he continued the conversation. When she eventually showed herself, she did not look good. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her skin had a tired grey tinge to it from two nights of very little sleep and a great deal of crying.

"You look like hell," he commented.

"Good morning to you too," she grumbled. Why couldn't she just tell him? He was hardly likely to spread rumours about something that was obviously so deeply painful for her. He just waited for her to look at him; she couldn't distract herself with folding her clothes forever. "I'm going down for breakfast."

Michael caught her by the wrist before she could get to the door; when she met his eyes, she looked like she could have cried again. She was obviously dreading this visit of hers. Which begged the question, why go in the first place? Why put herself through it? "Don't," Serena whispered. "Please, just don't."

"Is there anything you need to tell me?" he asked, giving her the perfect opportunity to come clean about her plans. But she just shook her head. Michael sighed in despair. Why did he always befriend the difficult ones? He let her go, watching her stalk off in her usual manner, as if nothing was wrong. But obviously _something_ was wrong.

By the time he'd showered and got dressed, Serena was sitting on her bed with her laptop. She was staring blankly at the screen, either paying no attention to what was there, or paying it too much attention. He tapped her arm and said, "We're gonna have to go now."

She sat the whole journey in silence, and when they got there, she spoke to nobody. Not even Michael. Usually she relished any opportunity to talk and made herself heard, but today she sat next to Michael, leaning closer to him than he'd ever expected. Like he was keeping her safe. It was very odd; Serena didn't need anyone to keep her safe.

He never thought he'd have found a friend in Serena. There was a time they could barely agree on the day of the week. But after a good few weeks of putting up with her on AAU, he found her enjoyed the company she gave. She was fun to be around, contrary to his first impressions. He'd found out what Ric had meant when he described her sense of humour, and he found it keeping him sane while Imelda had driven him up the wall.

At lunchtime, she finally stood up. He assumed she was going for something to eat and didn't bother to go with her because she'd be back soon enough. Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. Twenty. Half an hour. Forty minutes. An hour.

There was no way she was still getting lunch now. She must have slipped out. He couldn't help but worry – what if she was away doing something stupid and dangerous? What if she was meeting with someone who was a threat to her? He wanted to protect her; she was one of his best friends, for some strange reason. He often wondered if Hanssen had subjected them to each other on purpose, knowing they'd come out the other end as friends.

He got up and ran down to the car, deciding he'd rather know where she was than sit there wondering. He'd never seen her so cagey, so unwilling to speak. It was almost as if she was remaining silent so she didn't blurt out what was going on. Was this why she'd come in the first place?

He doubted it very much. She was fine until that night, when she'd read whatever she did. She was shocked; she hadn't expected it, that much he was sure of.

He drove slightly faster than he normally would've done but stayed within the speed limit in case he got pulled over. He reached the address.

Serena wasn't there. Not outside, anyway. He wondered what to do. If he went up and knocked on that door, he was a dead man walking. Serena would not take kindly to him interfering. But he'd had enough. It was like with Jac a few years ago – he wasn't going to stand by and watch her hurt herself. He just wasn't able to leave her to it, because he _knew_ she needed him.

Using this as his rationalisation, he went up and knocked on the door. A man answered it. "Hello?" he said, sounding quite confused.

"Who is it?" a woman called from through the house. Serena.

"It's me!" he called back. "It's Michael."

The man, deciding he was no threat, let him into her home. He smiled at him and proceeded through to the living room. What greeted him was a shock – Serena was sitting on the sofa, with her arms around a young girl, about ten or eleven. The girl was visibly sick; she had a nasal cannula, and there was an oxygen tank next to her. Her face was grey, her blonde hair limp and lifeless. She struggled to breathe and reached for her mask. In his medical opinion, she was dying.

"You followed me?!" she hissed.

"What else was I meant to do?" he demanded quietly, trying not to disturb the girl. "I thought you were up to no good. Wouldn't be the first time," he reminded her. Serena just sighed and nudged the girl's shoulder to get her attention.

"Alanna," she said gently. "This is my friend, Michael," she introduced them.

"Hi, Michael," she said sweetly, her Floridian accent sweet to hear.

"Hi, Alanna," he replied. He sat down next to Serena, and he could feel the despair emanating from her body. He'd never seen the woman defeated before, but he could tell there was no fight left in her just now.

Serena just sat there talking to her, asking her things like her favourite music and TV shows and films, and he could see these were things Serena wanted to remember. Alanna, it soon transpired, possessed a love for Taylor Swift, Carrie Underwood – country music in general – anything to do with animals, any decent horror film in existence and most crime dramas.

After around an hour, Serena was drained. She'd herself emotionally, and Michael could see it in the way she was letting her body sink into his slightly. Alanna gestured to her dad to pick up a box, and she handed it to Serena. "What's this?" she smiled, lifting the lid to see inside.

"It's all the things we made together," she explained. "Remember the gingerbread house you made with Ellie and me? There's a picture of that in there somewhere," she gave an example. She fumbled in her pocket for something and pulled out a platinum click-on bracelet. "This was Mom's. You have it. It won't be any use to me in a day or two," she handed it to Serena.

"I can't, sweetie," she said, but Alanna was having none of it. For a dying girl, she had a lot of fire in her.

"Take it. I know Mom would've wanted you to have it," she insisted, and Serena reluctantly took it from her. She clipped it around her wrist, and Michael could see the inscription.

_ I will sail my vessel 'til the river runs dry  
__Like a bird upon the wind these waters are my sky  
__I'll never reach my destination if I never try  
__So I will sail my vessel 'til the river runs dry._

"Thank you," she said sincerely. Michael found himself resting a hand on her leg as a comfort. "I have to go now," she added, taking the girl's face in her hands gently. "I love you, darling. I'll love you forever and ever and ever. You know that, don't you, baby?"

"I love you too, Serena," she gave a sad smile. "See you on the other side."

Michael heard Serena's breathe catch slightly at those words. She kissed Alanna's head, pulling her into a close embrace, burying her face into the golden mess off hair. Serena eventually found the strength to get to her feet and Michael watched as she advanced to Alanna's father, who'd been sitting quiet, just like Michael.

She pulled him into a tight cuddle and said, "Call me," the words laden with dark meaning.

"Of course," he replied. Michael's heart broke just a little at seeing the tears in the girl's dad's eyes. No father should have to watch his little girl fade away; Michael didn't think he'd have coped if this happened to any of his children.

He left before Serena did, resisting the temptation to bolt before he could fall into the hands of her temper. And, sure enough, when she arrived at the car, she was furious. "How _dare_ you?!" she demanded. "You had no reason to come. I left you the car, and you know me better than to think I'd put my safety at risk."  
"You disappeared off the face of the planet," he reminded her. He wasn't going to argue with her; he could tell she was partly just taking this out on him. "Of course I was going to look for you!"

"No," she argued. "You just _had_ to stick your nose in, you arrogant," she began, punching his chest, "cocky, cheeky, egotistical, materialistic, self-centred,..." she continued to rant, punching him harder with ever word, making his chest hurt.

He caught her wrists so she couldn't hit him anymore but she was stronger than he'd anticipated. "...careless, moronic, thoughtless, stupid..." she continued, but her insults were turning into nothing more than sobs as she struggled against his grasp. It was literally a wrestle to get her into his arms, the best way to restrain her.

He could feel her still attempting to batter his chest, so he wrapped his arms around her even tighter until she gave up. He rested his chin on top of her head and let her cry into his neck. The sobs sounded like they were ripping her chest open. It wasn't long before her tears soaked through his shirt, and he moved a hand to the back of her head to support it. She was broken.

Why had this particular girl's fate caused Serena Campbell to so dramatically fall to pieces?

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
****Please feel free to review and say what you think!  
Sarah x**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I apologise in advance for this, and thanks for all the lovely reviews!**

**Sarah x**

* * *

He felt her arms drop and her body stop resisting; she'd finally accepted he was going to stay here with her. She was absolutely distraught. "Come on," he whispered into her ear as she cried uncontrollably. "Calm down."

He thought he'd seen the worst before, but this was a hundred times more painful to experience with her. He could feel some of the pain she was feeling. Her arms wrapped around his body as she continually exhausted herself.

Before he knew it, he was physically keeping her standing; if it wasn't for his arms around her, she would've collapsed. He couldn't do anything to help. She was breaking down and he was powerless to help. That was the most upsetting thing for him – he'd had no real explanation, so he couldn't help her in any way apart from hold her while she wept for this girl.

He stroked the back of her head, trying to calm her, but it wasn't working. The sobs were ripping their way through her trembling body. He could barely imagine the pain she had to be in. What was this girl to her? He sincerely doubted it was her daughter; she'd called her by her first name anyway. He couldn't see them related very directly by blood – Alanna was a blue-eyed blonde, and Serena had dark eyes and hair.

She felt so fragile and broken in his arms, her body racked with sobs.

"Come on," he sighed again. "Let's get you in the car."

He put an arm around her waist and guided her into the passenger seat, clipping the seatbelt for her. She was still crying; she wasn't in control anymore. It was as if that little voice in her head that told her to get a grip on herself was gone, and she didn't know how to hold back without a reminder.

He could tell she was in agony over this; she wouldn't have lost control to that extent had the pain not been unbearable. But there was nothing else he could do for her – he felt so damn helpless. He had to leave her to cry herself out. He hated doing it, but there was nothing else for it. He didn't want to risk saying the wrong thing to her and making it all so much worse for her.

He started the engine, taking the road slowly to give her time to calm down. The conference still had another two hours today, but he had no intention of going back there. He knew Serena didn't want to be seen by everyone else as fractured and in unendurable pain. Ten minutes later, she fell silent. Though tears were still pouring from her dark eyes, she'd taken control over her body, if not her emotions. Now was his only chance to get the truth from her; the shutters would go back up soon.

"Who is she, Serena?" he asked her with a gentle sighed. He looked around to see her meet his eyes, her expression one of caution. "Oh, God. She's not your daughter, is she?"

"No," she finally replied, her voice hoarse from all the crying. "Not biologically. As good as, though."

"I don't follow," Michael admitted. "You're gonna have to elaborate a little. How do you know her?"  
Serena propped her head up on her hand, leaning her elbow against the black window seal. "Her mother, Louisa, was one of my closest friends. She died in a car accident was Alanna was eighteen months old. Jasper, Alanna's dad, he was in prison," she explained, but continued when a look of horror crossed Michael's face, "not for anything violent. Hacking, mostly. Anyway. The last thing Louisa ever asked me was to take care of Alanna. She didn't want her daughter getting lost in the system."

"So, what? You looked after her until her dad got out?"

"He didn't get out until early last year, just a few months before I moved back to Britain. He did a _lot _of hacking. Got caught by the FBI hacking a bank, as I recall, and that was the tip of the monumental iceberg. Very, very intelligent man, but the sort of person Jac Naylor would describe as a cretin, since he got caught," she revealed. "Alanna has been my daughter since she was tiny. She's eleven now. Eight and a half years, she's been my daughter. She doesn't remember anything else, but I made sure she knew I'm not her mum. Leaving her here was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do."

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Michael demanded, his heart breaking for Serena; she was effectively losing a child here.

"This was meant to be your holiday with your family. I didn't want to ruin it for you," she confessed that she'd not hidden it for herself, but for him.

"I would've come with you, Serena," he told her, reaching over for her hand. "I would've stood by you. What's wrong with her?"

"Jasper said she was diagnosed with a severe cardiac issue and was given a heart transplant a few months ago, but she's had infection after infection after infection. Her immune system has completely collapsed and now the new heart is failing. He said the her surgeon says the next time she arrests, it'll probably kill her. Her body's too weak to handle it."

"Oh, God," Michael groaned, squeezing her hand as the pulled into the hotel car park.

"I'm just having a hard time letting her go," Serena replied. "I mean, letting her die is just the lesser of two evils. The only other option is to keep pumping drugs into her and keep repairing her heart, but that's not a life, is it?"

Michael thought on it, and he knew in his heart that Serena was right. It wasn't fair to keep a child alive just for them to be in constant pain and spend half their life in hospital and the other half drugged up. Maybe the kindest thing really was to let her go. If the only other option was to put her through even more pain, with very little chance of success, any doctor, himself included, would probably make the same call, even though they'd loathe having to do it.

"No, that's not a life," he agreed. He cut the engine out and looked around at her. When she'd become one of his best friends, he would never work out. Perhaps between when she was forced upon him by Hanssen and the time she nicked his booze so he wouldn't drink himself into oblivion when Ramona left. He never did find out what happened to that bottle, he realised.

They got out the car and walked slowly back to their room; he had to force Serena to let him help her, because she was still quite unsteady from her earlier ordeal. His arm was around her waist as they wandered slowly up the corridor. He closed the door and she collapsed onto her bed; she seemed so drained by all of this. He just wanted to see a smile on her face. Even a sarcastic sneer would have done.

He handed her a pack of face wipes, and she silently took them and wiped her melted make up off. He watched her trying to compose herself; she was starting to regain control now. Her hands had stopped shaking, and her eyes had stopped pouring out tears. "How am I supposed to live without her? It was hard enough leaving her to go back to UK. Now I have to lose her for good," he heard her wonder aloud.

"You're Serena Campbell," Michael stated bluntly. He wasn't used to having to comfort her. She was normally securely confident in both herself and her work. She didn't outwardly doubt herself. She didn't outwardly show pain. Until now.

He sat down beside her on the bed and threw his arm around her shoulders and she finally fully allowed her guard to crumble. She intentionally rested her head on his shoulder, his cheek pressed into her hair. "Serena Campbell always comes out the other end a fighter," he reminded her.

"Not this time," she replied. "It's just the same as it would be for this to happen to Eleanor. Which reminds me, she has no clue about this."

"Thought you said she's got exams?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "I don't want to tell her in case she screws them up. I'll tell her when we get back; she'll be finished by then," she explained her logic, and Michael had to agree with her. There was no way they could get her here at such short notice anyway, and her future had to come first. "What am I meant to do, Michael? I just want to open her up and do all I can to save her," she asked him, burying her face into his neck.

"Sometimes things aren't so simple, Serena," he sighed. "Sometimes you can't control the outcome. Sometimes you have to look at the reality in front of you, and accept it," he found himself explaining to her.

"What if I can't?" she whispered.

"You will," he reassured her. "I promise you, I'll be here. And if you want this kept quiet, then it will be," he vowed.

"Thank you," she said.

He held her upright by the arms and smiled, "How about we go and drown your sorrows in pizza and ice cream?" He said nothing of alcohol deliberately; Ric had already said to him that wine was her answer for everything, but it wasn't the answer to this. It would do more damage than good.

"Just let me do something about my face," she sighed.

"Nah, you look fine," he brushed her concern away, knowing there was always the risk she'd just cry it all off again. He picked up her handbag and held out an arm. "Let's go and eat ourselves stupid," he suggested.

She gave him a smile and linked her arm with his, and he was thankful to see she was still Serena.

* * *

**Hope this is alright!  
Please feel free to leave a review and say what you thought of it!  
Sarah x**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: So this might be a bit silly compared to the past two chapters but the point is that Serena's trying to make a good time of this. The song later on is "A Friend To Me" by Garth Brooks :) thanks to everyone who as read and reviewed, too.**

**Sarah x**

* * *

Sonic the Hedgehog. MarioKart. Wii Sports. Call of Duty. What had she got herself into this time?

A four-way MarioKart game with Jasmine, Meena and Milly was one of the most exhaustive experiences of her life. "No, no, no!" Jasmine shouted. "That's _cheating_, Serena!" she protested when Serena found Jasmine was always winning, making the younger girls feel left out – Serena had tickled her until she succumbed into fits of laughter.

Wii Tennis with little Charlie had her fits of laughter as the poor little man waved the remote around. Then, of course, the strap flew off his wrist and the remote hit Michael in the face. Then she was literally on her back laughing. She couldn't help it. The funniest part was that Michael couldn't even swear because he was in front of his children, so he jumped up and down in an overly dramatic fashion. It was mean, she knew, but she found it entertaining.

Then they got the Xbox out and it was time for war. Call of Duty. A game Serena had never imagined herself playing before she'd met Michael. "Has my poor baby Michael recovered from his sore little nose?" she asked before they commenced, as if she was speaking to a toddler.

"Yeah," he made a face at her. "And I'm ready to flatten you."

"Go easy on me, eh? I'm not used to Call of Duty," she pleaded. He seemed to take pity on her, because she killed him many times over in their first game. She found she was good at this. Or maybe Michael had just turned soft on her. No, she was definitely good at this, she decided the ninth time she shot him dead.

At the end of the match, he turned to her and said, in his poshest, most feminine English accent, "I'm not used to this. Go easy on me," making faces at her. "Like _hell_," he said in his normal tone and accent. "I declare war on you, Serena Campbell!" he added threateningly.

"You declared war on me a long time ago," she scoffed, picking a map to play on. "Come on then. Show me what you're really made of," she challenged him. She soon wished she hadn't – he really had been going easy on her before. She found she had to hide and all sorts just to survive. And yet, somehow, she still had more kills than him.

"I hate to admit it," he said reluctantly, "but you're a damn good shot, Campbell."

"You're not so shabby yourself," she smiled. After yesterday, and the boredom of today's conference, it felt good to smile. It felt good to have some fun, even if it was juvenile. She drank out of her can of cola, and couldn't help but think she probably looked as much of a college frat boy as Michael did right now. And she didn't give a damn. What happened in Florida, stayed in Florida.

By the time they left for the evening, Serena felt like her thumbs were going to fall off. She sat in the car, allowing Michael to drive back to the hotel. Staring out the window, she thought on how much she'd enjoyed the past few hours. Playing MarioKart with the girls, Wii Tennis with Charlie, Call of Duty with Michael. Michael's own son hitting him in the face with the controller. Fleecing him into thinking she wouldn't be able to take him.

She found her reflection was grinning, and she didn't know if it was herself or the image facing her that she didn't recognise. The pain and the grief weren't gone; they'd just been laughed into the background for the time being.

"What's so funny?" Michael asked from beside her.

She turned to him and said, "Your nose."

* * *

By ten that night, Serena felt dead on her feet. "No, Michael!" she groaned, her feet aching now. "Not _another_ bar. I'm begging you."

"Oh, stop whining and get in here," he grinned, pulling her into the bar by the hand. It was quiet, and Serena filled with dread when she saw it was _karaoke night_. One of them was going to make an idiot of themselves. It was unavoidable. They'd both been drinking, though for once she was deliberately keeping herself in check. She didn't want to be properly drunk in case she got any calls.

This "night out" had been a total and utter pub crawl. Granted, they'd been sensible to get something to eat first in a steakhouse, so at least they weren't drinking on empty stomachs. Was today his way of cheering her up?

She got herself a glass of wine and a beer for Michael – not that he needed it – and went to sit down, watching the karaoke. It was all country music, she'd noticed. No way was she going to be roped into that. No. Wasn't happening. But she could get a laugh out of it, if she was evil enough...

The woman – very, very drunk woman – finished singing and the DJ looked for a volunteer. Everyone, of course, went quiet. Apart from Michael. He shouted, "Rena here will do it!"

"Oh, no, Rena won't!" she shouted after him. "Darling little Michael will though, won't you?" she grinned wickedly. She knew it was obvious to everyone turning to stare at them that she'd been drinking probably just a tad too much, but she wasn't too bothered. She was by no means out of control, and there were people far more drunk than her here. She rather felt she'd behaved herself, actually.

She pushed him across the room and onto the stage. She knew she'd pay for this later on, but seeing a drunken Michael Spence sing country karaoke would be worth it. Even if it meant she could blackmail him with the memory.

When he started singing, she had to grin. It was blindingly obvious he'd had _way_ too much to drink.

_Well, you and I  
We're buddies  
And we've been since we first met  
Me and you  
Well, we've sure been through  
Our share of laughter and regret_

Uh-oh. A song about friendship; she didn't know if she could handle that tonight. She was still pretty broken and raw. And then his eyes met hers from stage and she realised he was singing this to _her_.

She smiled back at him, trying to disguise her discomfort.

_Lord knows we've had our bad days_  
_And more than once we've disagreed_  
_But you've always been a friend to me_

Bad days. Disagreeing. _Understatement of the millenium_, Serena thought to herself with a grim smirk. But, credit where credit was due, AAU had made them friends. She'd seen him at his lowest and stopped him sinking even lower, just as he was doing for her at the moment.

_You can be so stubborn_  
_There's times I think you just like to fight_  
_And I hope and pray_  
_I live to see a day_  
_When you say I might be right_

He grinned and she knew why – she was unyielding, never taking the answer she didn't want. She knew sometimes picked on him, looking for an argument to remind her she had it in her still. And never had she actually said he was right, and she probably never would.

He really was singing this to her, wasn't he? She felt herself well up, her suspicions that she couldn't deal with this level of sentiment tonight being proved right.

_And there's times I'd rather kill you_  
_Than listen to your honesty_  
_But you've always been a friend to me_

Ah. The number of times she'd told him the way it was and he'd sulked like a child was ridiculous. She was the only willing to tell him the truth, whether he appreciated it at the time or not. Yes, she had a habit of rubbing him up the wrong way, but when they were friends, they were quite the little duo, she'd found.

_You've always been_  
_Time and again_  
_The one to take my hand_  
_And show to me it's OK to be_  
_Just the way I am_  
_With no apology_

"Stop it," she mouthed at him, unsure of whether he would be able to make it out from that distance. Was she really the only person who would tell him that, though there were many things he'd done wrong, as a person, there was nothing wrong with him, aside from a great deal of stupidity. Huge amounts of arrogant stupidity could land even the best of men in one hell of a mess.

She couldn't help smiling, despite her embarrassment; he was drunk, so she had to forgive him. Not to mention it was her fault he was up there in the first place, having practically pushed him up there.

_Oh, you've always been_  
_And you will 'til God knows when_  
_Yes, you've always been a friend to me_

He finished, and stumbled off the stage, straight into her arms. "OK," she grumbled. "You've had enough to drink," she asserted.

"No I haven't," he argued, and she was shocked to hear him suddenly relatively sober.

"You daft man!" she exclaimed. "What the hell are you playing at?!"

"Winding you up," he shrugged. "In case you hadn't noticed, I've kinda made a hobby of that." She smacked his side playfully, and she had to laugh. Only Michael would act drunk on stage just to wind her up. She felt his arms squeeze around her, giving her a huge, tight cuddle, and she knew he'd not forgotten yesterday's fiasco. He was quite literally squeezing the air out of her lungs, but she didn't mind. He cared, which was something more than she'd known for a long time.

"One of these days I'll have your head on a stick, waving it around Holby singing _I killed a man who got on my nerves_," she threatened, with a variation on the old wind-up song.

"Oh, _really_?"

"I am _never_ going pub crawling with you again," she vowed into his neck. "It's too embarrassing."

"Nah, you love it," he said dismissively. "We have to be up at six tomorrow morning, don't we?" he groaned.

"Yep," she said, being deliberately cheery about that fact just to annoy him. "Back to the hotel for us, I think. It's past our bedtime. Whoever unleashed us at this hour?" she added, a wicked glint in her eye.

They walked – stumbled – back to the hotel, arm in arm, laughing like it was going out of style. "Oh, and then he said, "I have no intentions of feeding anyone's arse to any kind of fish,"" he continued their discussion, imitating Henrik Hanssen's posh accent. "The man's a mystery."

"That he is," she agreed as they struggled to open the hotel room door. She hadn't realised they'd drunk quite so much alcohol. "Give it here!" she demanded, swiftly taking the key card from him. He couldn't even get it into the slot; fresh air had hit him and he really was quite drunk this time. She swiped it and they fell into the room, laughing on the floor. "You've got to be kidding me!" she moaned when she hit the carpet.

She got up and helped Michael to his feet, and handed him his pyjamas and told him to get changed and go to bed, taking the role of mother to a man who needed constant mothering. She got changed into her own pyjamas and got into bed, praying that tonight, she could sleep without the horrific nightmares of last night.

* * *

**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: For what you're about to read, please don't hate me. I'm sorry.**

**Sarah x**

* * *

When Michael woke the next morning, he was decidedly hungover. He looked over at Serena; she was still fast asleep. For once, he was awake before, which he couldn't help but feel rather smug about. He decided to leave her another half an hour before getting her up. The poor woman must have had one hell of a nightmare last night, judging by the amount of crying and speaking she'd done.

He picked up his phone and connected to the hotel wireless, realising he'd not checked his emails since they'd arrived here. One from Hanssen, checking they'd landed. Another one from Hanssen. One from some company advertising insurance. Amazon. Hanssen. Ric. Ebay. Hanssen _again_. Why was Hanssen emailing him? He checked the timestamps. Every morning and every evening – Britain's time – every day since they'd landed.

He opened the latest one and it read:

_I would just like to know that you and Ms. Campbell have landed and are safe and well. Judging by the lack of contact, I would hazard a guess you are both having a good time. Incidentally, is there a particular reason neither of you are responding to my emails? It is not typical of Ms. Campbell to disregard both myself and Ric Griffin simultaneously._

_ Henrik Hanssen_

Michael sighed and put his head back against his pillow. He had no idea Hanssen and Ric had been trying to contact Serena. She'd definitely been on her laptop, and she must have been checking her emails for news, just in case, so she must have seen that Hanssen had been on at her to email him back. He contemplated telling him of the situation Serena was in but thought better of it. He wouldn't betray her like that; he'd promised not to say anything, so that was what he was going to do.

He pressed the reply button:

_ Hey,_

_ This is the first chance I've had to check my emails. Not sure about Serena, but you know what she's like. We're fine. Conferences are going well and I think Serena is letting me tag along to some of her meetings. Nice and sunny here too._

_ I'll ask Serena why she hasn't replied but I'm sure, like me, she just hasn't had the chance. Maybe she doesn't even know you've been in contact with her._

_ Michael_

It was an email written mostly out of lies as Michael attempted to dig Serena out of a hole. He pressed send and checked the time; he read the previous ones and saw they were all along the same lines, asking if everything was alright. The one from Ric was a little less reserved, effectively telling them to sober up and send someone at home an email. Deciding he should probably wake Serena up now, he shook her shoulder and said gently, "Serena," moving her hair out of her eyes. "Come on, wake up," he ordered her.

She finally stirred and asked, "What time is it?"

"Half past seven," he told her. She buried her face into her pillow in protest; he was fairly sure she'd not fallen asleep until after three. And she was probably feeling the consequences of last night's alcohol. "Headache?" he asked her with a smile.

"Uh-huh," she groaned. Rather than poke the irritable bear with the stick, he left her to it and got ready himself. By the time he'd showered and got dressed and brushed his teeth, she was only just digging through her clothes for something to wear. He smiled to himself. She looked thoroughly hungover, and she hadn't even had as much to drink as he had. He guessed the fact she was already tired had done her no favours.

He left her to deal with herself and went down for breakfast. He wasn't particularly hungry but knew he had to eat something, so he had pancakes. Thankfully, she was ready when he got back to the room with a plate of toast for her. She declined so he handed it to her and told her, "You're gonna have to eat."

They only just made it to the final day of the conference, and Serena seemed apprehensive. More so than yesterday, definitely. She seemed more at peace yesterday, but today, it was like she was fearing the worst and refused to tell anyone about how scared she was. "You do realise Hanssen and Ric have been trying to get hold of you?" he asked her as they sat down next to the same arrogant doctor they'd been seated with yesterday.

"Yes."

"Have you been ignoring them?"

"Yes."

"Why?" he whispered.

"Because I can," she retorted. "It's up to me whether I speak to them or not."

"Serena, they're worried. I just checked my emails for the first time since we got here and I must've had half a dozen from Hanssen, all saying the same thing," he said, his voice turning stricter. "Why won't you reply?"  
"Because I keep thinking they'll know something isn't right," she confessed. "You know what Hanssen's like. He reads into everything. What if I email them and something in it sets them off without me realising?"

Michael sighed, and told her, "Well, I've said you haven't been checking your emails so I think I managed to get you out of it."

"Thank you," she said, shifting in her chair as everyone sat down to start the conference. Michael struggled to pay attention as they started presentation after presentation. Next to him, Serena was sitting up straight, listening intently. He had a feeling she was distracting herself now. He also had a feeling today wasn't going to end well for her.

At about eleven, her phone rang. She looked at it and said, "I'm very sorry, but I have to take this," before she half-ran out of the room. Michael waited nervously for her; he knew it wasn't going to be good news, and he was a bit worried about how she was going to react. She hadn't reacted well to the idea in the first place, so when it came to be a reality, he feared she was going to go off the rails a little bit.

After over ten minutes, he decided her had to go and find her. "Excuse me," he said. "I'm just going to find Ms. Campbell."

He opened the door and caught her running to the ladies' bathrooms in the corner of his eye. He knocked on the door and shouted, "Serena?"

No response. Deciding he didn't trust she would be fine, he hesitantly walked into the bathrooms. A woman washing her hands glared at him but he didn't care. His only concern was Serena. He heard throwing up from the end stall and groaned. The shock must have made her sick, despite the fact she'd been expecting it. "Serena!" he called.

He heard the lock slide and she stepped out, looking awful. "I'm guessing that was Jasper?" he asked gently. She nodded, and she started crying. Michael instinctively pulled her close, rubbing her back as she clung to him for support. "What's happening now?"

"I don't know," she replied, her voice muffled by Michael's shirt. He felt so sorry for her, even though he wasn't stupid enough to say so. He knew pity made her feel weak, but he knew also that she wasn't infallible. If this trip had taught him anything at all, it was that. "Is there any way we can leave this thing early?" she asked. "I'm not sure if I can sit there until four o'clock."

"Sure," he said into her hair. "I'll just tell them you're not well and get them to forward notes on, so we can let on to Hanssen we stayed. Sound like a plan?"

He put an arm around her shoulders, guiding her back into the conference room. "Grab your gear," he whispered, squeezing her shoulders slightly. He approached the presenter and said apologetically, "Serena's not well, so I'm afraid I'm gonna have to take her back to our hotel. Is there any way you could possibly forward the notes on to us?"

"Of course," the pretty blonde replied. "Is she alright? Ms. Campbell doesn't seem the sort to be easily shaken, and she doesn't look so brilliant."

"She's not great," Michael confessed, refusing to say any more than that.

"Well, give her my best," she smiled. "It was nice meeting you both," she said, shaking his hand. Michael smiled back and went to get Serena, trying to get her into the car as quickly as possible. He had a feeling she wasn't going to be able to keep it together much longer. He could see the lines on her forehead warning him she was in agony.

He put his arm around her shoulder once more and led her out, letting her lean on him. He didn't know what she was going to do. He couldn't tell if she was going to be as unflappable as usual when faced with the loss of a child who'd been hers for most of the girl's short life. It occurred to him that she really had effectively just lost her daughter.

Wow. Even to the almighty Serena Campbell, that was going to do some serious damage. How could it not?

He sat her down in the passenger seat and again found her hands were shaking too much to do her seatbelt herself, so he had to do it for her. She looked vacant now. Shell-shocked. It obviously hadn't sunk in properly yet. He could see this being the one event to catastrophically affect Serena. He knew, though she never said it, her child – children, he now knew – meant the world to her. She never showed it to everyone else, but he saw the way she reacted when her children were mentioned; she seemed determined to defend them from the outside world, like any mother.

He sighed and got into the driver's seat and started the engine. He looked round and saw she was staring into space. What she was thinking, he couldn't be sure of. All he could be sure of was that this was going to be hard on her, and, as the only person who knew about it, he had to be there to catch her when it really did knock her flat on the floor.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to leave a review and tell me what think!  
Sarah x**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry for not updating this for so long. College has been manic, and I've been ill so being in the garage has been quiet exhausting for the past couple of weeks. And thanks for the nice reviews you've all left :)**

**Sarah x**

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Serena sat on her bed, eyeing the box Alanna gave her with a great deal of apprehension. Part of her wanted to know what the girl remembered of her childhood. The other part was too scared of completely falling to pieces in front of Michael. He'd been amazing to her through all of this, though she would never dream of telling him – his head was big enough as it was.

She didn't realise how long she'd sat and stared at it until Michael sat down on the bed next to her, gently resting his hand on her leg. She couldn't say anything; she felt like she might burst out crying if she attempted to speak. She felt like she might actually break. "You've gotta look," he said gently. "Aren't you curious?"

He got up and got the box off the dresser; she was well aware she'd been looking at it since Alanna had given it to her, too scared to open it. What if the memories made her breakdown again? She hated this feeling of helplessness, of there being something missing in her heart. An emptiness. A hole in her heart.

It was strange. Alanna wasn't actually her daughter, and yet there was the same fear and agony and ice in her that she felt at the thought of losing Eleanor, her biological daughter. It felt horrible. She felt torn and cracked and beaten.

She barely noticed Michael sitting down next to her, placing the box on his lap. He opened it, and Serena had to look away. She looked the completely opposite direction. _Hold it together_, she ordered herself. _Don't look. Just don't do it_.

She didn't need the evidence to remember. She remembered it all, and the selfish, bitter woman in her wished she didn't. She remembered bringing Alanna up for over eight years, instilling respect and the concept of the benefits of hard work into her, just as she did with Eleanor. Biological or not, Alanna had been her daughter, and Serena was confident that was what Louisa had wanted when she asked her to adopt her daughter. She had legally adopted Alanna, with permission from Jasper, making her the girl's legal mother.

"What's this?" Michael asked. She didn't turn for fear of letting the mask of calm restraint slip again. "Serena?" She still refused to look; she didn't think she could handle it, and she was no masochist. "Serena, you'll have to look through this stuff sooner or later, and the longer you leave it, the harder it'll be."

She said nothing. She didn't trust herself. "Look at it, Rena," he ordered her. "Come on. She was your kid. You brought her up. You can't just wipe it all away and start over. You know it doesn't work like that."

"I wish it did," she confessed, the words catching in her throat. This was why she didn't wish to say anything. She didn't trust herself to speak without succumbing to the tears building up inside her.

She found the strength to look at what he was holding. He was bringing out courage in her that she didn't know she had, and it was something she was immensely grateful for. In his hands was a flat Christmas tree-shaped piece of green plastic with lots of small LEDs on it, and a piece of shiny pipe cleaner wrapped around it like tinsel. The capacitors and resistors served as baubles and decorations on it.

Serena let out an involuntary laugh. "A couple of years ago, last weekend before Christmas," she began remembering what had happened. "Eleanor and Alanna were sulking because there was nothing to do. I went down to the nearest hardware store and bought these kits, two soldering irons and two coils of solder," she continued. She took it from him, doubtful the battery still worked, and clicked the switch. To her mild surprise, it lit up. "We did these," she added. "I don't think I've seen either of them so proud of anything before!"

Michael laughed, shaking his head. "Only Serena Campbell would find something so technical to occupy her kids," he chuckled. "I wouldn't be brave enough to let my kids anywhere near a soldering iron."

"Coward," she smiled. "I already miss her, Michael," she confessed. "I shouldn't. I've lived away from her for long enough to know what it's like to not have her around."

"Serena, having a kid on the wrong side of the ocean isn't the same is that kid dying," he reminded her. "You know, it's alright to fall apart. I don't mind."

"I won't do that to you again," she said. "It was wrong of me to use you as a crutch these past few days. I need to stand on my own."

"Don't be silly," he sighed. He moved the box off his lap and pulled her into his side, his arm tight around her body. She rested her head on his shoulder, wondering what she was meant to do without her daughter. There was everything left to deal with – the funeral, all Alanna's belongings, and she still had to tell Eleanor her little sister had died.

She'd asked Jasper to deal with the funeral, knowing she wasn't strong enough to do it herself. She wouldn't be able to attend, anyway. It would probably be at least another week from now, by which time she was going to be back in Holby with Michael. She'd extended this trip once, and she doubted Hanssen was going to give her any longer here. Even if she told him what had happened, he probably wouldn't have believed her. And even if he did believe her, she didn't think he would've cared.

She decided to share this worry with Michael while he was being so unusually understanding. "Her funeral will be a week Monday," she said. "Our flight home is on Saturday."

"We have to stay," he immediately said.

"I'll stay," she said. "You go home when you're due, save you getting in bother with Hanssen."

"Not happening," he replied firmly. "I'll call him."

"No-"

"I'm not letting you go to your daughter's funeral on your own, Serena," he told her, his tone making it clear his mind was not going to be changed. "Either you phone Hanssen and ask for an extension until a week Wednesday or I will."

"Why Wednesday?" she asked curiously.

"A day for the funeral and a day for you to recover."

"When did you become so thoughtful?" she joked, though secretly thankful for this side to him. "Put him on speaker," she sighed, sitting straight once more. "That way you can take over when I start blubbering like an idiot," she said bitterly.

"It's not stupid," he contradicted. "Even the mighty Serena Campbell is entitled to cry when she loses a child," he told her, and she knew he was attempting to make her open up properly. He took out his phone, dialling Henrik Hanssen's number.

"Hanssen," he answered after only two rings.

"Mr. Hanssen," Serena began, trying to build up the courage to ask her favour.

"Ah, Ms. Campbell," he replied. "How is your trip going?" She couldn't answer; the lump in her throat was suffocating her. "Ms. Campbell?"

"Not so well," she choked out. "I need a favour."

"Go on," he said, and she felt Michael's hand squeezing hers, encouraging her to just come out with it.

"I need our trip extended until a week on Wednesday, please," she requested.

"May I ask why you would need four extra days in Florida?" he demanded, his tone predictably cautious and slightly hostile at such a request, clearly wondering if she was yet again up to no good.

"Because I need to-" she began, but couldn't finish; the words kept choking her before she could say them. Saying it made it real, and she was still clinging to the childish hope that this was all some twisted delusion. "My-" she tried again, but still couldn't say it. "Alanna-" she attempted to no avail. "Personal-" she started, but she couldn't even complete that, because she knew that the most crushing of meaning lay behind the term used by so many.

"Ms. Campbell, what is going on over there?" he sighed over the phone. She just tried to fight back the tears, hoping Hanssen and Michael couldn't sense what an effort it was for her not to cry now. She couldn't speak; how was she supposed to begin to elaborate? "Ms. Campbell!" he said more forcefully.

Serena looked to Michael for help. She didn't know how to deal with this. For the first time, she was utterly clueless. "Mr. Hanssen," she heard the American speak for her. "Michael here."

"Perhaps you can shed some light as to what is going on?" Hanssen asked, and Serena was starting to feel monumentally stupid. She was meant to be the woman who could fight anything and everything, not the woman who fell apart over the phone to her boss, unable to say why she needed extra time in the town she once treated as home.

"Serena's daughter," Michael said, and Serena felt the tears stinging her eyes yet again. "Serena's daughter died this morning."

"Eleanor?" he asked, his tone one of shock. She could tell from his voice he hadn't been expecting to be told her child had passed away.

"Alanna," Michael contradicted him.

"I thought you only had one child, Ms. Campbell?" Hanssen asked her. She paused for a moment, swallowing back her tears.

"Alanna's mother died in a car crash," Serena explained. "I legally adopted her when she was a baby, at her mother's request and with the permission of her father, who was in prison for computer hacking. She's eleven, and I adopted her when she was two and a half years old, a year after Louisa died." She noticed too late she'd described Alanna in the present tense, but she didn't care right now.

"I see," Hanssen said. "I'm very sorry for your loss, Serena," he said, and she was slightly taken aback that he'd used her first name. "I can barely imagine what it must feel like to lose your child after taking her in under such traumatic circumstances."

"Yeah," she said, wiping tears from her cheeks. "Yeah, it's not nice," she admitted. She had no other words to describe it; none of them matched up to what she felt. _Not nice_ was the best she could come up with.

"We think the funeral will be either next Monday or Tuesday," Michael said. "We'd appreciate it if you could somehow allow us to stay so Serena can go."

"Of course," Hanssen immediately replied. This was easier than Serena had been thinking; she'd underestimated Hanssen's abilities of compassion. "I will arrange for both of your shifts to be covered until you return and have time to recover from your journey. I'm sure it must be taking a lot out of you both," he explained his motives. When did Hanssen become so compassionate and understanding? She'd expected the third degree, not for her shifts to be covered until she felt up to working.

"Thank you," she said.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Serena?" Hanssen asked, and she was touched by the way he was being so nice to her when she had such an awful track-record of deceiving and betraying him.

"No," she replied. "Nothing. Except, can you keep this quiet, please?"

"Of course," he said. "Who you choose to tell is entirely up to you."

"Thank you," she said again.

"Look after her, Mr. Spence," he ordered Michael unexpectedly. "She's going to tell you she's fine, and she'll be lying."

"Yeah," Michael said. "She's quite good at doing that. Don't worry. I won't let her off with it." Serena glared at him but for once he didn't back down under her stare. "I'll look after her."

"Good. I'm sorry but I must go," Hanssen said apologetically. "If you do need anything, please don't hesitate to ask me."

"Thanks," Michael said on Serena's behalf. She'd again lost the ability to talk. She listened as they said goodbye to each other and hung up the phone. He put his phone back into his pocket, and Serena suddenly felt quite awkward. She wasn't used to being the one people cared for; this was a total role reversal and she hated it.

She looked at Michael, trying to decide if he could see the fear and dread and pain in her eyes. It was horrible to remember why she felt like this, and to think she couldn't talk to her youngest daughter ever again.

He didn't say anything, and, yet again, he pulled her in towards him and just held her, obviously thinking she needed him. And, truth be told, he was right. For the first time, she felt she truly needed someone to help her through this, and he was the only person she knew who was around at the moment. If she was honest with herself, though, Michael would've been her first choice anyway. He was bluntly honest when it was needed but still sensitive and caring, and honesty and friendship were the two things she was in desperate need of just now.

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**Hope this is alright!  
Please feel free to review and tell me your thoughts!  
Sarah x**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Again, sorry this took so long to update. I'm only just beginning to clear my head, and the ideas miraculously just come to me once my head starts to empty a little bit! Thanks for all the kind reviews, too :)**

**Sarah x**

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Michael watched Serena carefully as she lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. She'd cried herself out – for now – and was pretty much out of fight. "Michael," she said. "I just remembered – we're going out to dinner with Annalese, Brad and the kids."

"It's fine," he immediately said. "The last place you'll wanna be right now is around kids," he added, realising the subject of children would be raw for her at the moment.

"No, I'll come," she replied, sitting up and looking at her watch. "We're meeting them at six, right?"

"Serena, are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked her; he was worried about her mental state. He'd never seen her give up a fight before. He'd only ever seen her stand up and battle tooth and nail to get what she wanted. So the fact she was left with no energy in her made him feel a bit unnerved. "I mean, nobody would expect you to go."

"I'm not going to sit and wallow, Michael," she warned him, and he accepted from her glare that she was going to do what she wanted whether he liked it or not. "Just let me change and do something about this," she said, pointing to her face. She really was the strangest woman he had ever encountered. Stranger, for now, than Jac Naylor, which said something. She had lost a child mere hours and was now getting ready to subject herself to four reminders in the shape of his own children.

"Where's my foundation, Michael?!" she shouted from the bathroom. He looked around, finding a glass bottle of creamy pale liquid. He went to the bathroom and handed it to her, still refusing to believe she had it in her to spend the night with kids. The only other conclusion was that she was trying to ignore the pain he knew she was in. She looked scared, but also had that determined glint in her eyes he knew all too well.

He left her to it, hoping she would be alright, but knowing, in his heart that she wouldn't be until she turned around and faced what had happened instead of running from it like she was now.

* * *

When six o'clock came, Michael found himself surrounded by his children, his ex-wife and her new partner, and Serena, who was unusually silent. Charlie, who seemed to have taken a particular liking to her, ran up to Serena as soon as she approached with Michael. She scooped him into her arms and said, "And how is the little terror today?"

"Fine," he replied.

"Good," she smiled. Michael put his hand on her back and guided her into the restaurant. Why was she doing this? He would have come himself. Or not gone at all if he didn't think she was fit to be left alone. As they sat down, Michael was conscious that she had chosen the seat closest to both him and the door. She really was quite a strategic person, constantly thinking ahead and making sure she was never trapped.

"What are you having to drink, Serena?" Brad asked.

To Michael's surprise, she replied, "I'll just have Diet Coke. Trying not to have too much alcohol just now," with a fixed, slightly pained smile. Brad just shrugged; Michael didn't like his attitude, towards the children and towards Serena.

Michael looked at her, as worried as he was before. "You OK?" he whispered. She nodded at him, and he touched her arm lightly.

Annalese was eyeing Serena with suspicion, and Michael didn't like it. There was no need for the look she was giving her. "I hear you were the one to take my child clothes shopping," Annalese said icily.

"Someone had to," Serena shrugged.

"Oh no," Michael groaned, his head in his hands. "Annalese, now is not the time or the place for a bitching contest, OK?"

"Oh, I don't know, Michael," she retorted. "You were the one who left our daughter to go shopping with a perfect stranger," she continued.

"Serena is not a stranger," Michael said firmly. "She's a friend, aren't you?" he added to Serena. She gave him a slightly uncomfortable smile, obviously not happy about Annalese's reaction. To be fair, she had warned him this would happen. And right now, he wanted to reach over the table and throttle Annalese.

"I have a daughter of my own," Serena sighed impatiently, not adding that she actually had two. "I know what they're like. The point is that Jasmine now has a dignified wardrobe and some real self-esteem."

"Excuse me?!" Annalese replied, looking pretty outraged. Thankfully, Jasmine had cottoned on and had taken her siblings over to the play area, winking at her dad.

"Never mind," Serena groaned. "I really cannot be bothered arguing with you. If you don't like me, that's fine, but I'd appreciate an end to the sniping, thank you." She looked at Annalese, and Michael was slightly amused by the challenging glare in Serena's eyes.

"If you're going to be like that, what are you doing here?" Annalese snapped. "You might as well go back to your hotel room." Serena looked rather hurt – more than she already was – and quickly stood up and grabbed her coat. She stormed out, not even looking at Michael. He glared at Annalese.

"What was the need for that?" he demanded. "Really? All that over a damn shopping trip?!"

"She shouldn't have done it, and you should never have asked her!" she argued, keeping her voice low as Brad approached them. "The pair of you are nothing but trouble."

"What's going on?" Brad asked, setting the drinks onto the table. "Where's Serena?"

"Annalese sent her packing," he answered, not removing his glare from his ex-wife.

"Can you blame me?" she answered. Michael ran his hands over his face, trying to keep his cool. She was infuriating him now, and he didn't want to lose his temper, at least not in public. He wouldn't descend to that level. He wanted to go after Serena, but he was giving her time to reign in her own formidable temper.

"She was doing what I asked her. She's a good person, and she doesn't deserve for you to sit there and berate her for helping a friend!" he retorted.

"She's a horrible, miserable cow!"

"Yeah, well, so would you be," he answered before he could stop himself.

"What?" Annalese said, confusion in her voice now.

"Look, she lost her daughter," he admitted, hoping to God that Serena didn't come back in while he was explaining why Serena was so unhappy.

"But she said-"

"She had two," he cut across Annalese. "Her youngest died this morning," he told her. "So, yeah, she's a bit miserable, but who could blame her?!"

Annalese didn't answer, just shocked, and he saw she felt bad for the way she had spoken to Serena now. "Oh my God," she moaned. "And I was so nasty to her. She was just...hostile."

"She's always hostile when she feel vulnerable," he told Annalese sternly. "It's the only thing that keeps her from crying."

"I'm going to have to go and find her. Tell her I'm sorry," she decided, but Michael instantly stopped her, knowing what would happen if she found Serena and told her she knew about Alanna.

"No," he said. "I'll go. I'll be back soon," he promised. He half-ran outside, looking around for Serena. She was nowhere to be seen, so he started walking, always looking around. Where would she go? She wouldn't go anywhere infested with children. She only did that for him, and he knew it. In the corner of his eye, he saw her walk into a bar. Oh, joy. He wasn't going to have a grieving, drunk Serena on his hands.

He silently entered the same bar and caught her before she could say anything to the bartender. "Come back," he ordered her. "Annalese was just being protective Mommy bear. It's a bad habit of hers."

"A bad habit of mine too," she glared. She seemed to know he had explained the situation and moaned, "Oh, Michael, what have you told them?!"

"Just that you're child died this morning," he promised. "Look, Annalese feels awful. She wants to apologise. She was going to come after you but I wouldn't let her in case you ripped her head off," he confessed with a grin. She shook her head gently at him, leaning with her back against the bar. "Is being round the kids too much?"

"No," she replied. "Promise me something, Michael," she pleaded, looking around her at the drunk people in the room.

"Anything."

"Don't let me drink," she said. "Please. It'll end in disaster."

"I promise, OK?" he reassured her. He put his arm around her shoulders and led her out of the bar, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. She was tired; he could tell from the way he was practically walking for her. They walked down the road silently, watching the people go by.

"Why me?" she whispered. It was a question he had no real answer to. "Is this the price I pay for all the things I've done in my life?"

"No," he said firmly. "It doesn't matter what you've done; nobody deserves to lose their child," he asserted, squeezing her shoulders lightly. Her arm was around his waist, the other around his front, and he realised that, although she wasn't going to ask for it, she needed someone to hold her up and keep her going, and to comfort her when she needed it.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I never expected you to step up and be there for me," she confessed. Michael smirked; everyone, especially Serena, saw him as juvenile and irresponsible, but they didn't seem to realise that he was always going to be right there when a friend needed him. And to be perfectly fair, he tended to act quite immature in front of Serena, and it was almost always to annoy her, or make her smile.

"There's more to me than meets the eye," he informed her, unable to keep the smugness out of his voice. "_I_ am a lovely person really."

"Now now," she replied. "No need to get cocky."

"You know me by now," he said. "It's just part of my devilish charm."

"Quite," she conceded. They stopped at the door of the restaurant, and he looked around to see she was eyeing the building with apprehension. "You'll be OK," he assured her. They stepped in together, walking as one back to their table, sitting in their seats. Annalese looked relieved to see Serena return.

"Serena, can I have a word?" she asked hesitantly, clearly realising she had offended Serena, though she wouldn't have stormed off if she wasn't already in pain. She nodded and they both stood up.

"Uh, I want to be able to see you. You know, in case you get into a little cat fight," Michael grinned. Annalese and Serena simultaneously glared at him, but they did resolve to go over to the corner to talk. He watched as they conversed, and as Annalese apologised, probably both for her actions and for the fact Alanna had died this morning. Serena held out her hand for Annalese to shake, but Michael's blonde ex-wife put her arms around Serena, who looked over to Michael and mouthed, "Help me!"

He smiled at her, glad to see her sense of humour was still there. The two women returned and sat opposite each other. "Friends?" Michael asked, and Brad looked quite uneasy himself; Michael smirked as he decided the idiot was scared of Serena and Annalese.

The women looked at each other and said, "Friends."

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**Hope this is OK!  
****Please feel free to review and tell me what you thought!  
****Sarah x**


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